Page 51 of Rescued by the Single Dad

Slowly, she blinked open her eyes and tipped her head down, smiling at him in an almost shy, but also coy kind of way.

At that moment, he never wanted to let her go.

He barely knew anything about her, and yet, he didn’t care.

She could remain an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and he’d still want to keep her.

But she was temporary and as the euphoria wore off, reality hit him like a baseball bat to the back of his skull. As fun as this was, the only way this could end was in heartbreak.

She would leave, and he and Talia would be left to pick up the pieces.

Because not falling for Brooke seemed impossible.

“Wow,” she breathed.

He smiled, but already his heart began to hurt.

She carefully climbed off him, and after he pulled his boxers and jeans back up, he carried Brooke to the powder room downstairs so she could freshen up. They made sure to bring her clothes with her.

Once the bathroom door closed, Clint slammed the heels of his palms into his eyes and backed up until his butt hit the wall.

What the fuck was he doing?

He needed to get out of there.

He needed a reality check and some space. Otherwise, he was just going to want to keep doing what they just did, and they both knew that nothing good could come from such a temporary attachment. As it was, Talia was already head-over-heels for Brooke. It was going to be hard enough for Talia to say goodbye, let alone Clint—and his dick.

She let him know when she was ready to get out, then he opened the door and scooped her up, carrying her back to the couch. He plunked her down, made sure she had the remote, the tablet, fresh tea and water. Then, avoiding eye contact with her, he left.

Was it the cowardly thing to do? Sure.

Color him a coward, then.

But one thing was for sure, he could not, and would not, make that mistake again.

Brooke was temporary. And this life on the island with Talia and his brothers was permanent.

He just needed to accept the fact that he might never find a woman to share this permanency with—as much as he wanted to.

CHAPTER NINE

What the hell was that?

Clint did a complete one-eighty as soon as they had sex.

He went from attentive and caring, to distant and aloof the moment their genitals were no longer touching.

Did she do something wrong?

Did he not like that she initiated things?

She’d never been a shrinking violet when it came to sex. Brooke learned early on that if you didn’t tell a man what you wanted, you wound up disappointed and taking care of things yourself.

She also trusted Clint—more than she’d trusted anyone in a long time—and felt like she could be herself around him. Or at least she thought she could.

But the cold way he picked her up and carried her back to the couch, then didn’t even make eye contact with her ... what the actual fuck?

With a pout that eventually made her face hurt, she sat on the couch with her arms crossed and her feet in the salt bath.

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